


tonight we are dead

by lazy_kitkat



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Minecraft Youtubers (Video Blogging RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: 1980s, Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Banter, Drinking & Talking, Flirting, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Polyamory, Smoking, Strangers to Lovers, aesthetic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28393872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazy_kitkat/pseuds/lazy_kitkat
Summary: “I’d tell you to breathe,” The stranger mumbles, “But in a moment, I think you’ll realise you don’t need to.”He blinks. His confusion is apparent but the other simply shakes his head. Then he realises why everything feels so silent. His heart isn’t beating. The other’s isn’t either.“Welcome,” The pretty boy ties a bandana around his forehead and something bitter lingers in his smile, “To the land of the dead.”(In which Dream wakes up in the afterlife and he meets two pretty strangers.)
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 57
Kudos: 793





	tonight we are dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vreaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vreaa/gifts).



> Quick reminder, if Dream Team or anyone in my fics express that fanfiction makes them uncomfortable and they’d rather it not be published, I will take this down.
> 
> Extra: The poem is not written by me, it's by Richard Siken from his poet collection- Crush. The title of the poem is 'You are Jeff' It's the last stanza.
> 
> Other than that, enjoy~

He wakes up in a gas station.

Well, he’s outside the actual building and lying on the concrete. He’s not sure how he got here, why he’s here and he’s pretty sure his head is supposed to be hurting but it isn’t. He groans, his voice feels weak, and he slowly stands to his feet. He struggles to balance, almost tipping over and it feels like he has a new pair of legs. He looks up.

Everything is so quiet. Everything is so still.

The gas station looks old, washed walls that have lost its colour over time with dust clinging to it. The signs aren’t digital, printed in some old-fashioned font, archaic art. There are movie posters that look like they’re for those black and white ones and he doesn’t recognise any of the titles. The gas station is empty and there’s something odd about it. The shop glows bright, the lights inside still on and the illuminates under the night sky.

He walks to the front of the shop, stumbling to the ‘open’ sign. He twists the door knob, the ringing of a small bell filling his ears when he pushes forward into the store. The first thing he sees are magazines and comics, laid in rows at the front with their showy headlines and colourful covers. On one side of the store, he sees records lined on the walls. Of artists he’s never heard of, of albums he faintly recognises as a best seller. He passes this one record which he thinks his grandparents used to dance to, once a upon a time.

“Yo,” There’s a pretty boy who sits at the cashier, cap falling onto his face, “Need anything?”

He picks one of the candy wrappers on display- he’s never seen half of them. One has a clown on it. He thinks it’s drowning in candy wrappers and chocolates- it’s tears as little sprinkles and he puts it down. It’s a little depressing and the ingredients say it has dried mango. He’s not the biggest fan on fruit in his chocolate.

“That’s a Sketzer Joy,” The stranger hums, tapping his fingers along the worn surface, “Got discontinued in the early nineteenth century. Don’t try it, it’s bad.”

He decides he likes the other’s accent, the way the stranger’s voice dips to say certain sounds as his voice clings to vowels with a quiet aggression and finishes his consonants with the hint of song. He realises that he’s staring at the other person’s lips when the other smiles and shoot, it’s a really nice smile. He diverts his gaze and looks behind the stranger where there’s posters and a fridge filled with sodas and beers; he doesn’t think he’s tried.

“Is that a typewriter?”

“Yeah. It’s busted though,” He realises that the other boy has his hair done in space buns and suddenly life isn’t very fair.

He swallows nothing and then the pretty stranger looks at him with a weird look. He watches carefully, brows furrowed and then he turns.

“How old will you be next year?” The other asks, opening the fridge and taking out two bottles of root beer. At his confusion, the stranger adds: “Don’t wanna be serving this stuff to minors.”

“Twenty-two.” The bottle is made out of glass and it slides, coming to a stop right in front of him.

“Hm,” The stranger hums, twisting the bottle cap of with something that one could mistake for as a murder weapon, “You’re new around here, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be honest,” he says, “I woke up outside on the concrete.”

The other grins easily but his eyes are a little pitiful, “Take a sip. You’re going to need it.”

“Better not poison me,” He murmurs, bringing the bottle to his lips. It tastes like acid, burning the back of his throat. The taste is rough to his tongue and strong, too strong. He starts coughing.

“I’d tell you to breathe,” The stranger mumbles, “But in a moment, I think you’ll realise you don’t need to.”

He blinks. His confusion is apparent but the other simply shakes his head. Then he realises why everything feels so silent. His heart isn’t beating. The other’s isn’t either.

“Welcome,” The pretty boy ties a bandana around his forehead and something bitter lingers in his smile, “To the land of the dead.”

~

_you're in a car with a beautiful boy,_

~

The boy drags him outside of the gas station, out to the back where there’s a mostly empty parking lot, save for the turquoise Chevrolet. It’s one of those old ones you only see in black and white documentaries with a cargo bed and everything. He thinks his dad would have appreciated it more than him, an old beauty worn down by time. The other opens the door of his truck, gesturing him to get in, slamming the door once he complies and then walking around the vehicle to the driver’s seat.

The boy ties a bandanna around his head, bangs now pulled back, as he plays with metal keys. The other inserts one into the engine and the car splutters and coughs, vibrating as it comes to life. It’s a weird feeling, sitting in a machine which beats and roars when his own heart is silent. Everything is uneasy. It doesn’t feel like he’s dead and a part of him hopes this is all an extremely terrible nightmare or that he’s horribly amnesiac.

“Denial?” The boy offers, “Let’s not go through all five stages tonight.”

He smiles at him and the blonde blinks, “Where are we going?”

“To the main city. It’s two weeks away, maybe more if the valleys rise,” Honey eyes fiddle with the radio and some old song plays, slow and low, “You’re supposed to end up there when you, well, die.”

_Hit the road, Jack,_

“Why did I end up here then?”

“Dunno,” The other boy leans back and hits a pedal, “The people who run this hellscape aren’t perfect.”

The truck reverses and then they’re off, driving down a lane with rows of trees along either side under a night sky. The roads are worn but there’s something ethereal but the running leaves that are dipped in gold. He rolls down the window and there’s no wind that runs through his fingers when he reaches it out. It’s cold or maybe it’s hot, he’s not sure. Feeling has been hard since he woke up, since his heart stopped beating.

_And don’t you come back,_

“The name’s Sapnap,” The boy murmurs, honey eyes trained on the road ahead, “Yours?”

“Cl-”

“Nuh uh,” he tuts, “No alive names down here. I’m sure that pretty head of yours can think of something.”

_No more, no more, no more, no more._

They both fall silent and Sapnap lets him think. The dashboard rumbles as they jump over a bump and he curls his fingers into his palm, trying to dig them into his skin. He doesn’t feel anything, no piercing sting and he wonders if that’s worrying. He looks out the window, a dark sky with no stars. It was completely blank and it was silent except for the car. He wished he could hear his own heart or at least the shallow breathing of the other. Then, then maybe he’d believe this was real, that this wasn’t all a delusion in his head, that he wasn’t dreaming-

“Dream.” He starts slowly and the other hums for him to talk louder, “My name. It’s Dream.”

_Hit the road, Jack,_

“Good,” Sapnap says and he turns to smile; Dream feels something stutter, “Take care of that name. You can’t trust everyone here.”

“What about you?” The blonde plays with his fingers in his lap, “Can I trust you?”

_And don’t you come back,_

“Well,” The other boy grins and he’s beautiful, under the night sky and musky car lights, “Can’t hurt to try. Afterall, you can’t die twice.”

~

_and he won't tell you that he loves_ _you, but he loves you._

~

By the third night, he still hasn’t fallen asleep.

He doesn’t think he could, even in the gentle rocking of the car. He has questions, so many questions just buzzing in his head and he doesn’t have enough answers. Some are about why there are no stars in the sky, others are about why the trees are gold or why the water runs backwards. But most, most are about if this is really the afterlife.

He supposes he expected a darkness, an abyss where all he ever does is fall. Or even a hell and a heaven. He doesn’t know, he never thought about dying too much when he was alive and now that he’s dead, he has too much time mulling it over. Was this the dead or was it a dream? Or is this the real living and if he falls asleep, will he wake up to a real dead? He doesn’t trust it all, himself. Maybe he’s a little scared, of slipping into darkness and losing it all again.

“Stop thinking so loud,” The truck comes to a stop and Sapnap grins, “Look outside.”

There’s a beach outside and there’s a sunset.

“I thought you said there was no sun,” Dream barely finds his voice, meek and quiet. The sky is burning as if a phoenix painted itself onto the sky with vibrant oranges, reds and yellows. It flickers onto the ocean, deep blues with ripples of bright lights and it looks like there’s a dragon dancing on the sea. The sand is gold and the tide comes in to wash away the show, speckled treasure. It’s gorgeous and he thinks he could sit here and just listen.

“I said there’s no day and night,” A lower voice murmurs, just beside Dream’s ears and the blonde feels his cheeks flush at the sudden closeness, “The sun is frozen in time here. It’s always sunset.”

“Poetic,” He starts, “Pretty.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap is looking at him with a quiet smile, “Pretty.”

The other leans over to the compartment on the passenger’s side, taking out a box and a lighter. He offers one to Dream.

“I don’t smoke.”

He shrugs and his bandana slips, “I didn’t either. But it can’t kill you anymore.”

The blonde hesitantly eyes the rolled tobacco and turns away, “That’s a terrible philosophy to live by.”

“Firstly, there is no living,” He hears the lighter come to life, hissing its little fire, “Secondly, the philosophers go crazy down here. Do you mind if I-?”

He shakes his head, “Just roll down your windows.”

Sapnap murmurs a quiet thank you, obliging before he leans back and brings the cigarette to his lips. He closes his eyes, chest heaving and when he exhales, dragon breath kisses his mouth goodnight.

“You’re breathing.” Dream watches and his fingers twitch, “I thought-”

His voice breaks off, fading into nothing and the other finishes the sentence for him, “We can breathe. We just don’t need to. Waste of energy, of time but it’s nice to.”

If he closes his eyes and listens, carefully without making a peep himself, he can hear Sapnap’s shallow breathing and the pulse of a hand that laces with his own. It is nice, it feels real, it’s grounding. He opens his eyes again and looks at the other boy who simply smiles.

“You look like you needed it,” He gestures their interlocked hands and Dream stutters. Again.

“Thank you.” _For everything._

“Eyes on the sunset,” A voice of honey says and it almost feels shy, “It’s not everyday I bring a boy as lovely as this sunset here.”

And the blonde wants to kiss him but he doesn’t think he’s ready. Or that it’s time. The other seems to understand and nods, squeezing his hand and taking another puff of his cigarette. For now, Dream lets himself breathe.

~

_and you feel like you've done something terrible,_

~

He kisses Sapnap when they’re driving down a highway.

The streets are empty and it’s just them, in a blue Chevrolet, going over the speed limit. Sapnap has one hand on the wheel and the other holding onto Dream’s hand. Dream likes this, Sapnap breathing for him as the car roars with a life that he can not have. It washes over him, bringing him somewhere warm, somewhere familiar. It’s not home, nothing about this reminds him of home but he thinks it could be.

He remembers feeling, something swelling in his unbeating chest which had been so cold and numb from everything since he woke up in the gas station. He thinks Sapnap was singing terribly a song on the radio while tapping along to the beat with the steering wheel as his drum. Something takes over the blonde’s fingers, his arms and then, when the other slows the truck down to a stop and asks him why he’s been so quiet, Dream lunges forward so they’re lips meet.

It’s slow, it’s gentle and it’s not love.

Sapnap moves against him and he fits but then he doesn’t. Dream’s melting, in the stuffy car with a boy too pretty for him to resist and they break apart. He pants, not because he needs to but because he knows the other would leave him breathless even if he was still alive.

“What was that for?” The other smiles.

“Felt like it.” He replies and Sapnap hums.

“Do it again?”

 _Gladly_ , his mouth moves but no words come out as he kisses Sapnap again and again and again.

It’s slow, it’s gentle and it’s not love.

Yet.

~

_like robbed a liquor store, or swallowed pills, or shovelled yourself_ _a grave in the dirt, and you're tired._

~

“What the fuck? My bike-”

The bike, is now twisted and pulled apart with one wheel perpendicular to the other and the bell snapped off. It lies on the floor rather pathetically and its owner looks at it like he’s lost everything and then looks at them like he’s going to end him.

“Why are you both just standing there?” He’s short and his face is red; it’s a nice face, “Fucker, pay up.”

“Are you hurt?” Dream asks and he watches over the other for injury. It seems to be the wrong question to ask. You wouldn’t except that asking for someone’s wellbeing after almost running over them would cause such indignation, but here they were: a short man swearing profusely in what he thinks is a British accent. He’s not sure what to do.

“Of course, I’m not hurt.” The other snaps, “But my bike is.”

“Go easy on him,” Sapnap comes out of the driver seat, package of popcorn in hand, and stands beside Dream, “He’s newly dead.”

“Do I look like I care?” Dream then hears a few more curses people shouldn’t really say, “How am I supposed to get to the main city now?”

“You were going to bike all the way there?” Sapnap wrinkles his noise and looks at the other like he’s an idiot, “Dude, that’s so far.”

“I was going to stop at the train station- fuck, I’m going to miss my train-” The stranger snarls, “Then you both crash into me-”

“You mean Sapnap did,” The blonde interrupts, “He was driving.”

“I didn’t crash into him, he crashed into us.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this right now. I was on a bicycle and you’re both in a _truck_.”

“Then it’s a mutual crashing.”

“No, it really isn’t.”

“Does it matter?” Dream says, “We’re going to the city too. We have a spare seat.”

“Absolutely not, I am not going to help you two run over more people.”

“Get in, we’ll stop by a hotel for the night and get you checked out,” Sapnap throws a bunch of popcorn in his mouth, “You can make up your mind by morning. Mind you, tickets are expensive. We are not.”

The stranger opens his mouth to protest but falls silent, contemplation apparent in his features, “That, that’s not a completely terrible idea.”

Dream thinks, when the other isn’t red and swearing at them- he’s very, very pretty. Dark hair and a longer jawline with blue eyes against paler skin. The other simmers down and nods, following them to the truck.

“What’s your name?”

The stranger looks at him funny, before taking his hand and climbing into the passenger seat. It’s a tight fit with all three of them but he doesn’t really mind. He doesn’t think anyone minds.

“George.”

He grins, “I’m Dream, he’s Sapnap. Hi.”

Sapnap waves beside him, starting the truck and turning on the radio. He’s met with a blank stare from the other and then the first smile that he’s ever seen on George’s face. It’s a very beautiful smile and Dream stutters.

“Hello,” There’s quiet amusement in his voice, so different to the anger from before, “You’re both staring, what happened?”

“You are unfairly pretty,” Sapnap curses when he realises that he’s spoken out loud.

“Yeah?” George smirks, “Imagine how I look not run over.”

Dream laughs and leans back as the other two start to bicker playfully. The radio plays and the truck is stuffy. The night runs above them as they pick up speed and if he closes his eyes, he can almost trick himself into thinking this is the living. He doesn’t bother to, he’s long moved on from the whole being dead thing and he’s worried if he closes his eyes, he’ll miss something else just as important.

They crashed into George or maybe George crashed into them but either way, Dream thinks the other might stay.

~

_you're in a car with a beautiful boy,_ _and you're trying not to tell him that you love him,_

~

It’s been a week and they’ve only tried to kill each other once. Given that they’re all already dead, Dream thinks they’re getting along just fine.

“You two go take a walk or something,” Sapnap says from the front of the truck, engine in the wide open, “The air conditioning won’t take long to fix.”

The blonde stretches his legs and then bends his back. They’re stiff after being crammed in the truck for so long and George takes the space beside him. The truck is parked on the side of the road, on a ledge which when he looked over where the acres of tall wheat. It looked like the land was drowned in gold and he wonders how it grows without a sun, he wonders how much brighter it would be under the sun.

“C’mon,” He says, jumping down rock to ledge, ledge to rock. George yells behind him but Dream hears quieter footsteps follow a bit behind him. Once he joins golden grass and sowed fields, he pivots around his left foot and twirls to catch blue eyes that crash into him.

“Why’d you stop?” He hears below him but he’s distracted by the field of gold. They’re tall, the wheat, reaching his hip as he wades through them as if they were a sea.

“Is this real?” His hand twists the stem.

“As real as us,” George shrugs, looking up to the dark sky, “You haven’t been to the main city, right?”

Dream shakes his head and the other hums, “It’s underwater. The city. There are whales in the sky.”

“There are fireflies in this sky,” He murmurs, pointing to the buzzing lights that hover above them, “They weren’t here a moment ago.”

“Be careful of them,” George eyes the little bugs warily, “Light in the afterlife messes with people.”

“Messes with people?”

The other doesn’t say anything, raising his hand as a single firefly flutters onto his index finger and its light dims. Dream can tell this isn’t something to press on so he stomachs his bubbling curiosity and watches the other boy. He has a quiet look on his features, blue eyes dark under the sky.

“Did they ever make it to the moon?” George mumbles and the firefly leaves.

“They did,” Dream blinks, he wasn’t expecting that, “We have pictures of Pluto now. They found water on Mars.”

“My dad worked for NASA,” The other says, “I never got to see if they won.”

“They did. 1969.”

“Good.” And they both fall silent. There’s no wind to distract him, only a field of wheat which tickles at the feathery bit. They can’t see Sapnap from where they stand but the blue truck is still in his sight. It’s too quiet again and he want to hear the other’s voice, pine and gentle.

“My sister likes Sailor Moon.” It comes out randomly and the blond feels like sealing his mouth. He doesn’t know where it comes from but he thinks that the two of them were having a moment. He might have ruined this moment.

“What the fuck is that?” George doesn’t sound angry, instead quiet amusement colours his voice.

“I-uh, moon princess and earth prince fall in love, superheroes?” Dream tries to grab onto the golden threads of his sister, the way her eyes lit up as she rambled and how her hands were an animated flurry of excitement, “Uranus is genderfluid.”

George is definitely laughing at him now and the blond feels the need to justify himself as blood rises to his cheeks, “I think. My memory is weird.”

“Everyone’s memory is a bit weird down here,” George leans forward, a little to close and Dream starts thinking about how he never realised how the other’s lips are chapped and rough, “The whole moon falling in love with the earth is cliché.”

“It’s poetic.”

“Lots of things are poetic. It doesn’t make them any less of a cliché.”

“We should be poetic.” Dream grins and his heart skips a beat when the other gives him a shy smile, “Kiss under the stars and stuff.”

“There are no stars,” George turns but his voice is light, “And I hate poetry.”

“I thought we were having a moment.”

“You ruined the moment,” Dream’s face falls and the other softens, “You’re still cute.”

“So no clichés?”

“Not tonight.”

_Not tonight._

~

_and you're trying to_ _choke down the feeling, and you're trembling,_

~

Sometimes, when Sapnap doesn’t want to drive, when no one wants to sleep and when no one wants to leave the truck; the climb into the cargo bed and take turns reading out loud.

It was Dream’s idea; they stopped by this tourist shop and stole a book- the Wonderful Wizard of Oz. He only remembers watching the movie back when he was alive and George is the only one out of the three who has read it. They’re reading about the yellow brick road this time and he thinks flying monkeys are a scam.

“ _‘The road to the City of Emeralds is paved with yellow brick,’ said the Witch_ ,” George reads and Dream closes his eyes, leaning against the back of the truck. Sapnap lies his head on the reader’s shoulder and his feet are in the blonde’s lap.

“ _So you cannot miss it. When you get to Oz do not be afraid of him, but tell your story and ask him to help you_ -”

“The yellow brick road,” Dream interrupts and George falters, setting down the tattered book which has yellow pages and folded corners, “The Emerald City.”

“And?” Sapnap stirs and its cute how he sounds a bit grumpy from having to move away from George.

“I’m Dorothy,” He says simply and waits for the epiphany to dawn on the other two, “Sapnap is Scarecrow.”

“I suppose,” George sets the book down, “Both brainless. But at least one has redeeming qualities.”

“Must be my gorgeous face,” Sapnap grins, his voice tired but light.

“Or another’s clever wit.”

“You’re so mean to us.”

“Tin Man,” Dream says and the other rolls his eyses, “Absolutely heartless.”

“Spoilers,” George seems resigned but the corner of his mouth twitches upwards, “We haven’t even met those two yet.”

The other keeps reading and the blond lets himself think. He thinks about how Sapnap breathes for him even though he doesn’t have to, he thinks about how George will stay awake to listen to whatever Dream has to say. He thinks about how he knows that Sapnap doesn’t like taking pictures and his favourite colour is orange and how George plays with the radio when he’s bored and likes odd numbers over even numbers. He thinks that he likes odd numbers more too, he feels more complete as a third when he’s with the other two.

“Can I kiss you?” Green eyes look at blue and then honey, “Both of you?”

“At the same time?” Sapnap teases but his words are soft around the edges, “We’d need to build a pyramid and shit.”

He tries not to think about how Sapnap swears more since George came with them and how the other started to swear less. He tries not to think about how he’s wasted to many hours thinking honey and blue eyes. How he melts when the other two speaks and how home is wheels with two pretty strangers in the afterlife. If he thinks to much, then he distracts himself from what’s real- like how George is leaning in.

“Why?” He hears the other whisper, “Why should I let you kiss me?”

 _Because I think I could fall in love you_ , he thinks, “You only live once.”

George hums and their lips meet. It’s cold at first and the positioning is awkward but the other takes lead, cupping Dream’s cheeks softly, small noises as his eyes flutter shut. He’s not burning but something in him sings with static in his fingers he curls them in the other’s hand. When they break apart, blue stares back at him satisfied, flicking back down at his own red lips.

“My turn,” Sapnap smiles lazily and George laughs shakily, bending down to meet the other. Dream closes his eyes and just exists, melting between the other two and the night sky above never seem better.

Follow the yellow brick road, he thinks as he slips into a kinder darkness with his arms are full.

~

_but he reaches over and_ _he touches you,_

~

The sky is crying and Dream feels heavy.

They’re at another gas station, both Sapnap and George are inside the shop and he’s standing outside with his back against the wall. The sky is dark but it doesn’t bring the same comfort as the night does. It’s masses of ash and slate, looming over the world and dimming out all the other lights. The sky is depressed, he thinks with his fingers numb and his cheeks cold, he didn’t think it would rain in the afterlife.

The bell rings beside him, the other two walking out with ice cream and popsicles they most definitely didn’t pay for. They’re holding hands and Dream thinks it’s cute.

“Here,” George passes him something cool, “Lime and chocolate. Sap thinks it’ll taste good, I’m betting it won’t.”

“And I’m your guinea pig?”

“Of course not,” Sap presses a soft kiss below his ear, standing on his toes, “You can have some of George’s if you don’t like it.”

The plastic umbrella they stole from some tourist place slips from his fingers, falling to the ground as he fiddles with the plastic packaging. He rips the top, a lime green popsicle dipped in chocolate and a few chopped nuts as if it were sprinkles. George wrinkles his nose at it, turning away and licks his own vanilla ice cream.

“This place is a fucking aesthetic,” He says and the blonde sends him a curious look, “Ice cream in the rain. Abandoned gas station with neon lights.”

Neon lights- he didn’t notice those. They filled the small restaurants to the side, pinks and then yellows, oranges and then greens. Under the dark, looming shadows, they glow brighter and create colourful paintings in the rippling puddles. George has a point; it’s something you’d see in the magazines and Dream really likes it. He hasn’t seen the afterlife so bright since the day Sap took him to the beach and it holds a bit of hope against the saddened sky like a candle in the night.

“This is the part where we talk about our feelings,” Sapnap grins and he leans forward to take a bite out of George’s ice cream, “For the aesthetic.”

“Who bites ice cream?” The shorter boy stares at him like he’s a heathen but he doesn’t make an effort to move away, instead offering the cold dessert, “You’re still biting the ice cream-”

“How does that make you feel?” Space buns fall loose against the bandana, “Honestly?”

“Honestly?” George tests the words with his accent, “Dream’s my new favourite.”

“What do you mean?” The blond scoffs; he doesn’t think he likes lime with nuts, “I was always the favourite.”

Honey eyes are warm and bluer ones dance playfully, making everything around him feel a little dizzier and brighter.

“Peaches and cotton candy, it’s a bit sweet but you might like it,” Sapnap mumbles and swaps the ice creams in their hands without a second thought, “George, you’re right. This is disgusting.”

Blue eyes frown quietly, “Pass it here, you can have mine instead.”

Another silent exchange, save for the quiet ‘thank you’ that rolls off Sapnap’s tongue and they stand quietly in the rain. Having each other here, right now- Dream could close his eyes and sink, in the mess the other two leaves his silent heart and this, this is akin to something more than home. Warm, bright and still.

“I love you,” Dream blurts and the world falls quiet, “Both of you, so much.”

He hears a sharp intake and then George murmurs randomly under the pitter patter of rain, “Till death does us apart.”

He laughs, he really shouldn’t because he meant for this moment to mean something more and laughing like he’s going to die again isn’t helping anyone. But George doesn’t seem to know when to shut up and let a moment be a moment worth remembering and Dream thinks it’s up to him to teach the other how.

“I like the sound of that actually,” Sapnap grins and their fingers lace around each other like missing thirds. They are his missing thirds, they make him feel in a world too cold, too hot. They make the colours worth noticing, they make the sky need no stars when all the light he needs from the night sky are already by his side- two different handprints memorising a bit of his body. He wants to kiss them both, he wants to feel them against him and he wants their name on his tongue. He thinks he’s in love, he knows more than just in love.

So, under neon lights and dark rain, in the hands of the two people who really matter, Dream lets himself breathe.

~

_like a prayer for which no words exist, and you feel your_ _heart taking root in your body,_

_~_

“We’re here,” George murmurs, “Look.”

It’s a bit hard to look at the whole city, the other was right. It is underwater. He doesn’t understand how the truck is working with water pumping into its engine. There are fish, schools of silver tinted with other rainbows, swimming through the streets. He can’t see the sky; the blue sea is illuminated by sea pickles and bioluminescent plants. It is pretty but it’s confusing at the same,

“There are whales in the sky.”

“Of course, there are,” George says, “Why would I lie?”

He doesn’t understand how he’s breathing but then Sapnap reminds him that they don’t need to breathe. He doesn’t understand why his ears don’t throb from the pressure or why his hands feel warm when everything else feels cold. There are other people and his head spins, he doesn’t think he’s been with so many other people in so long.

“Do any of you want to make a phone call?” Sapnap points at a telephone box, there are quite a few on every street and there’s a small queue trailing each one, “I have a few coins spare.”

“My family’s all dead,” George shakes his head and the former hums in agreement, “Dream?”

“A phone call?” Dream mumbles and he feels a bit lost, “Who would I call?”

“Any phone number you remember from the Living,” The other says and presses a few coins in the taller man’s palm, “Given that they’re still alive.”

“And what? They’ll just pick up?”

“I don’t think so,” Honey frowns and his arms find their way to loop around Dream’s neck, pulling him close, “It comes to the Living in different ways. Letters that didn’t exist, in their sleep sometimes. We can’t decide how.”

“Clingy,” The blonde teases when Sapnap kisses the side of his neck, “So I can just, talk to them?”

“No,” George speaks up from beside him, “You have to let it go to voicemail.”

“Voicemail,” He echoes slowly, blinking, “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Dream fiddles with the little coins in his hands, rolling them over with his index finger and rubbing against the surface with his thumb, “Okay.”

George offers him a small smile and Sapnap falls back. They take him to the back of one of the lines, three or two other people loitering around before them. The telephone box itself is a washed blue with stained glass and a creaky door. He watches another leave the little box, eyes red and sniffling quietly while another enters as a jumble of nerves. It makes him a bit anxious; he doesn’t know what to expect. This all feels so simple but here he is, in an underwater city.

“What’s wrong?” He hears dark honey whisper to him.

“It’s weird,” He murmurs to Sapnap, “We never pay for anything. I didn’t think there was money here.”

The other shrugs, a grin creeping on his face and it looks criminally handsome, “I like to think this place is a bit of a communist.”

“That is not communism.”

“It’s working,” Sapnap points out and honey glazes over with a fondness, “Does it matter?”

Dream doesn’t say anything and bites back a smile. They shuffle along the line when he realises that he’s next. George seems to notice the way his shoulders stiffen and how he starts scratching his wrists.

“Calm down,” He hears, something cool and serene washes over him and pulls him down. George takes his hand and Dream wonders if the other has always had smaller hands. His own fingers curl into the empty gaps between the other’s digits. Something draws small circles and weird shapes on the back of his hand and he doesn’t bother to guess what they are.

“Can we get churros after this?” He hears Sapnap ask, “I know a really good place. It’s a bit far off but the walk will be nice.”

“Churros? Underwater?” Dream grimaces, looking up to where his own hair defies a gravity he’s not used to, “That’s disgusting.

“Magic,” George does jazz hands with one hand only and he looks lame. But the blonde still leans down to kiss him, “Dream, it’s your turn.”

He falters, heart stuttering when some leaves the telephone box in a hurry and there’s no one in front of him. The other two don’t follow him when he walks forward, hand twisting around the knob of the booth. There’s a small creak as he pulls the door back softly. He looks behind him.

“We’ll be waiting here.” “Don’t forget, let it ring to voicemail.”

He nods, walking in until he standing alone in a small box with nothing but a few coins in his hand and an old telephone in front of them. It, again, is one of those old ones. Big, clunky and very much out of date. He wonders if it will really work, slipping a few coins into a small slot. He hears a jingle or two and then there’s the keypad.

He needs a phone number. The keypad has huge buttons, the numbers worn and faded. He racks his brain for a pattern, an order of numbers which will lead him to his past life. Dream never had a knack for remembering phone numbers, he relies on his contacts to much. His own feels like a foreign concept, so he tries to think of his mum’s or his brother’s-

Then it comes to him.

He presses the buttons carefully, each number sinking at its own pace. The space inside the telephone box is quiet as the phone starts to ring in his left hand. He brings it to his ear, small vibration in his hand and he waits nervously.

The ringing drops and his ears are filled with an automated voice. There are instructions, pressing ‘1’ and then ‘3’ and he follows them hesitantly. The voice tells him to speak when he hears a small beep so he waits for it and then-

Then he needs a moment. He has no idea what he should say.

“I miss you,” He says quietly, “And I’ve never been gladder that you forced me to remember your number.”

He almost expects to hear a voice back and he does try to, listening keenly for any proof that there is someone on the other side. There isn’t anyone, he should give up.

“I’m dead,” He keeps talking, “It’s not that bad, I thought it would be dark. It’s always night here,” He thinks two pairs of eyes, blue and then honey, “But it’s nice. Really nice.”

“Not that I’m happy to be dead,” God, he’s rambling like an idiot now, “I really wish I didn’t die. I never told mum that I love her- fuck, I think I have dad’s birthday present lying in my desk. I promised you I would take you to Disney World- now I can’t. I don’t think there’s a Disney World here.”

“Tell her that I love her. Mum, that is. Take care of Patches, she doesn’t like the cold at all so make sure she’s okay. And- don’t get too hung up on me. I’m okay and I’ll wait for you. Not that I want you to die, but it’s kinda the course of life and fuck, I’m messing this up so bad,” He closes his eyes and leans against the wall, “Don’t tell mum that I’m swearing in front of you.”

“I’m going to go now,” Dream can hear the phone ticking to a stop, “I love you. Take care of yourself and-”

The phone dies. He stares at it blankly and it’s honestly, a bit poetic. He hates it.

When he comes out, George holds him a little tighter while Sapnap whispers sweet words in his left ear. He feels a bit dizzy but he feels a bit light too, like he might float away if the other two didn’t hold him.

“Need a moment?” Blue eyes ask softly and his world slows down to spin.

“I think I just ruined a moment.”

“You’re still cute.” The other has a shy smile and Dream laughs.

“Churros. Underwater,” He says and Sapnap lights up, “Distract me.”

“Magic,” Sapnap brings him forward and they kiss. Everything feels right.

~

_like you've discovered something you_ _don't even have a name for._

**Author's Note:**

> heyoo,
> 
> this fic is for vrea who has just been incredible the last few weeks and also kinda for me coz fuck I love me some dreamnotnap. Like seriously, I love them. I hope you guys like it, I definitely did. I got carried away, this was supposed to be a 3k oneshot. but I just, dream pining for two pretty bestfriends. just. yes.
> 
> don't forget to user subscribe, it's free and you can always unsubscribe later <3
> 
> xoxo winter
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/yourlazykitkat) & [tumblr](https://yourlazykitkat.tumblr.com/)


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